Where My Demons Hide
by WhouffleAddict
Summary: The Doctor has lost so many, and so much. He's come very close to his breaking point so many times, but when he loses Clara, he actually snaps. He's depressed by the constant presence of her ghost, a figment of his imagination, and he wants others to feel his pain. He wants other people to hurt, and he needs to let Clara go. (Whouffle one-shot. WARNING: Dark!Doctor


**I just felt like writing this one-shot to get my idea's juicing. It's based on the song **_**Demons **_**by Imagine Dragons. I don't own Doctor Who, and I hope you enjoy!**

The Doctor sat on the cold steps leading out of the TARDIS console room, the silence enveloping him. It was a never ending cycle, he found. He found someone he loved, he took them on adventures, he lost them, and he sulked. Over and over again, with no end. He didn't even know why he continued on, keeping the cycle going and going, it always ending in pain, loss.

He did know, to be honest. He was selfish. A selfish, greedy, mad Time Lord with a box that could travel anywhere in time and space, luring helpless human's in, infecting them with a poison he had perfected, trust, until they met their inevitably gruesome deaths, leaving him guilty, depressed, and angry.

When would he ever learn?

Maybe this was the last straw. Maybe this was what would make him snap. He had come close when he lost his beloved Ponds, but now this… Maybe this would snap the sense into him, making him realize that he should just stop.

He stared at the console, not really seeing it, not really hearing the hum of the TARDIS, not really there at all. This is what would make him finally snap, he knew it. He had known it ever since he had fallen deeply, and stupidly, in love with his Impossible Girl, knowing that she would end, just as the others had.

He was sure that this is what would make him snap, what would unleash the hoard of demons he kept locked away in his soul. He knew he already had snapped when he heard her voice, whispering in his ear.

"Doctor, it's okay."

He didn't turn, the rage roaring up inside of him, and her words only added gas to the fire.

"I'll be okay. We knew this was coming."

He didn't move, but he said, "You'll be okay." It was a mere croak, a boat of hope that was quickly extinguished by the fire of his anger.

"Yes, I'll be okay."

He stood up steadily, tearing his bowtie away from his neck, shoving his purple coat off.

"Bowties are cool."

He turned toward the sad sound of Clara's voice, finding her bent down beside the bowtie, staring at it. For a second he believed, for a second his voice caught in his throat, for only a second the rage was drowned out by hope. But by the time that second passed he just grew angrier.

He knew that this would happen once he had finally snapped. He knew something would happen just to make him even more rage-filled than he was. He turned away and walked up to the console, setting her to take him to a random destination.

"Doctor, calm down."

He ignored the soothing voice, his eyes filling with fire, his mind filling with ways of letting out his rage. A thousand years of guilt and sorrow was finally going to result to something.

_Death._

He strode to the area under the console, rummaging for something, _anything, _that would cause pain.

"You know this isn't right."

"Yeah, and what is right, huh?!" He yelled angrily at the ghost of his last lost standing next to him. "Wallowing in my own self-pity?! Going out to find some other helpless, hopeful, hairless ape?! Is that what you want me to do?!"

She rested a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't feel it. "I want you to stop."

He stared at her, not allowing himself to focus on how full of life her ghost looked. Because she wasn't alive. She was dead, because of him. Just like all of the others.

He growled before turning back, grabbing a group of things that looked sharp enough to cut, striding up to the console confidently. He looked at the ground, seeing his bowtie. He threw what he was holding onto the ground in frustration. He bent down to pick up the bowtie, pulling at it in his anger, biting it, throwing it.

"Just stop."

He breathed heavily, his anger stewing inside of him. He turned to Clara's ghost, watching as she observed him. "Why are you here?" He asked bitterly.

"I'm not the one who put me here." She answered.

He chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, that's my fault too, isn't it? I'm driving myself mad." He started picking up the tools he'd chosen to make others feel the pain that he felt, though they would never hurt as much as he did. It would suffice for now.

"Don't do this."

He glared at the echo of his late companion. No, not an echo. Even those were more alive than this cruel image. He stood there, silent, for a moment, before asking, "Clara, how do you see me?" He knew that this wasn't really Clara, just a figment of his imagination, but he asked anyway, his voice cold.

"I see you as an angel, a saint. You save people, and you're _so_ beautiful, in so many ways."

"Yeah, well it seems you got it wrong. I turned out to be quite the opposite." He spat out, turning back to the console.

"That's only because you chose to be."

His hands froze over the controls. He turned back to her, his brow furrowed.

"Every saint has the power to turn into a demon. And every demon has the power to turn into a saint."

He let out a single dry chuckle. He walked up to the TARDIS doors.

"I'm telling you, don't do this."

"Don't follow me. I don't want you to see this." He said firmly, walking out of the TARDIS. He was in 21st century London, by the shops. He closed the TARDIS doors behind him, walking up to a place filled with people, a place where they couldn't easily escape.

He found a high place, calling out to them. "I… AM… TALKING!" He yelled. The massive crowd of people went silent, staring in confusion at the Doctor. No, he wasn't going to be the Doctor anymore after he did what he was about to do. "All children need to leave, right now, unless they want to _burn_!" He yelled through gritted teeth. He pulled out a lighter and a can of some kind of spray. He watched as no one seemed fazed. He annoyingly pulled out his sonic screwdriver, sonicing the can. He sprayed the spray, and then lit the lighter, the flames erupting. Then the people started to panic. He heard the sonic screwdriver buzz as all the doors locked, and the bashing of desperate souls commenced. He cast the spray down, watching as innocent people burned. A manic smile spread across his lips.

He didn't even notice the ghost of Clara standing right next to him, disappointment etched into her features.

-x-

He entered the TARDIS a few hours later, blood splattered across his waistcoat, his shirt slightly singed. He set his tools of destruction down on a flat area of the console.

"Why did you do that?"

He exhaled. "I wanted them to feel the pain that I feel. I wanted them to suffer as I do." He answered, his hands running across the console.

"You just killed hundreds of innocent people!"

"Do I care?" He stared at her, his face not even close to resembling the Doctor she once knew.

"The Doctor would care."

"And I'm not the Doctor." He stared at her for a few more moments, before walking up to her, a hand reaching out for her cheek, but he felt nothing. He growled and balled his hands into fists. "Why am I even talking to you?! You're not real!"

"Yet you continue."

"Just shut up!" He yelled, his face red with rage. "Just be quiet! Don't say a damn thing to me, because I don't need this right now! I can't- just stop!"

There was a long moment of loud silence, the air drowning him as he silently dealt with his anger.

"I still love you, even though you do such horrible things."

He ground his teeth together, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the console. He walked up to her once more, bringing his face down close to hers. "What do you see?" He asked angrily. "When you look at me, what do you see?"

"Darkness. Evil. Anger. Sorrow…"

"See?! That's what I am now! That's all!" He cut her off.

"Hope that it will all stop." She finished.

He was momentarily shocked, before he swiftly turned away and pressed coordinates into the console.

-x-

He stood there as Angie and Artie cried, standing over Clara's grave. Mr. Maitland was trying to be strong for his children, but he was still sniffling.

_This is sickening._ The Doctor thought. _You dirty, meaningless, hairless apes._

Clara's father hadn't shown. The Doctor turned toward the kids, and then back to the grave, only for his line of view to be blocked by the lady of the hour herself. "What do _you_ want?" He asked.

"You had the decency to change before showing up."

"I didn't really want to explain to the Maitlands why I was covered in blood." He answered, ignoring the confused looks he was getting from the trio. "Just go away so I can mourn in peace." He said to the air in front of him. He blinked, noticing she had been gone before he even said it.

"Doctor," Artie said tentatively. "Why are you talking to the air?" He asked through his sniffles.

He didn't answer.

"Artie, ignore him. He's probably gone a bit mad from losing Clara." Mr. Maitland told his son quietly.

The Doctor glared at him. "A bit? A _bit_?" He stomped over to him. "Do you have any idea how much I loved her? How much I cared about her?! And you think I've gone a _bit_ mad?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No! I have lost too many! I have seen too much death! And now I lose her?! I lose the one that saved me all those times! The one who was impossible! The one I loved so, so much!" Tears were streaming down his face. "I'm sorry if I get a bit angry that _I_ am the reason she isn't here today! I'm sorry if all the guilt and pain makes me go mad!"

Angie stepped forward, punching him in the chest. "I knew it was your fault! I knew it would be your fault! I knew it! You bastard!" She kept punching him, though he didn't even get bruised.

He held her by her coat collar, picking her up. "I don't have time to deal with you _apes_!" He yelled as he threw her down to the ground. He was already walking away as he heard Mr. Maitland's angry yells.

-x-

"That was uncalled for."

"She was lucky I didn't strangle her to death." The Doctor bit back, messing around with his sonic.

"I'm disappointed in you. She was practically family."

"Yeah, well I've already killed my family, and entire race at that, so stop complaining."

"Doctor, do you even care what I think about you anymore?!"

"You know what? No, because _you're not real_!"

"But you know that this is what the real Clara would think of you right now."

He went silent. "It's too late for me to undo anything now. I'm already going to Hell for being the reason my planet burned, and those people back at the shops."

"Those innocent people. Doctor, did I really do this to you? Make you become so horrible?"

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "No, Clara, don't ever think that you're the reason I'm like this. You're not. _I_ am. I'm the one that allowed myself to fall in love with you in the first place. I'm the one that allowed you a special place in my soul. Don't blame yourself."

"But I still attracted your attention, making you find that special place to store me in."

"No! Clara, just stop! This isn't helping!"

"Isn't helping what?"

"You said you want me to stop. Well, this isn't helping!"

"What isn't helping?"

"You! You just being here! How am I supposed to continue when you're here, haunting me, causing my sanity to slowly slip out of my grasp."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing! I just… I need to let you go. Somehow." He sighed, wringing his hands.

"Well, what do I do?"

"You can't do anything, that's it." He threw down his sonic in frustration. He was just so mad at everything, so upset, so sad. He looked up at her. She looked exactly like the real Clara. So beautiful. Every little thing about her that he loved was still there. The way her nose was shaped so perfectly, her lips dipping in just the right area, her eyes shaped like roses, her skin so many different shades of peach. He took a tentative step towards her. "You're eyes; they're so filled with hope, with life." He said quietly. "Just like the first time I ever met you, the _real_ you. Not an echo. You." He almost reached out to her again. "Oh, how I wish I could've kept your eyes shining like that. Kept them from getting worn, shaded with memories of pain and death. That was the most horrible thing about your death. Watching your eyes lose life." His voice broke on the last word.

"Doctor, it wasn't you fault."

He shook his head, pleading. "Don't. Just don't. If you keep doing this I'll never be able to let you go. I need… I need you to show me."

"But how?"

"I don't know, but show me how to let you go. Please." His eyes were wet, his heart heavy. "Please, help me stop hurting."

She nodded. "Doctor," She started softly. "How did I die?"

He looked down, swallowing hard. "I really don't want to-"

"No, not what made me die. _How _I died."

He frowned for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "Well, um, you were on your bed in the TARDIS. You were asleep, and Strax said that you weren't going to wake up. I was sat beside you, gripping your hand. The tears… I was crying, so much, and I kept wishing that…" He shook his head, a single tear slowly making its descent down his cheek. "I wished that you would wake up, so I could at least say goodbye."

"But you never got to."

He nodded, wiping his eyes as more tears fell. "Then… then you woke up, for just a second, not long enough for you to say anything. Your eyes were open and you looked at me, and I could see… I could see the life drain out of them. It was like the universe was playing a cruel trick on me, giving me hope, and then ripping it out of my grasp with such a force that it left me tattered and worn."

She nodded. "Now, how do you think you'll be able to let me go?"

"S-say goodbye?" He asked, swallowing. She nodded. "But, how?"

"Doctor, I need you to concentrate really hard. You have to really believe that I'm here right now. Really here."

He nodded and stepped toward her, wishing with all he had the Clara were there. She brought a hand up to his cheek, and his mouth opened as he could feel her soft skin pressing against his damp cheek. "How?" Was all he could manage. He brought his hand up to caress hers, the tears flowing freely now. "Clara." He croaked. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay."

She leant up, her lips only an inch away from his.

"I just wanted to say, goodbye." She whispered.

"Goodbye, Clara." He said. She brought her lips up, softly pressing against his. He closed his eyes; bringing his other hand up to rest on the side of her face, but when he opened his eyes… she was gone.


End file.
